


gymnophoria ii

by hellalujah



Series: uncommon words - a collection of prompt fills [7]
Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Break Up, Friends With Benefits, Illustrated, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Mutual Pining, hugo is the best wingman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellalujah/pseuds/hellalujah
Summary: (noun) the sensation that someone is mentally undressing you.Everyone hooks up with their exes, probably.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [portonroblavski](https://archiveofourown.org/users/portonroblavski/gifts).



> sorry this is so late! a prompt fill for [lux](http://teleporterrobinson.tumblr.com). hopefully the length makes up for the lateness!!
> 
> incredible illustration by [kao](http://swag-machine.tumblr.com) since we coincidentally happened to be working on porton things with the exact same concept at about the same time (?!)
> 
> soundtrack: [the faint - get seduced](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-S0rcAfpxto) / [leon vynehall - i get mine, you get yours](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ln6qWCjkelY)

Of course they’ve run into each other since the breakup.

People had always told Porter not to shit where he eats. He’d known from the beginning what he’d been getting into, that if anything _did_ ever happen they wouldn’t be able to avoid seeing each other.

But he and Anton had wanted to try anyway. And they did try, for a solid couple of years. It’d started out good - _great_ , really. They were an amazing fit for each other physically and emotionally and god, Porter had loved him.

Porter still loves him, at least a little. He can’t imagine he’ll ever stop loving Anton.

The distance had been too much for the both of them, though. They’d done the tour and it’d been incredible, seeing Anton every day, every night. Going to sleep next to him and waking up next to him, having breakfast and playing shows together - it was perfect. A dream come true.

But they’d gone to their respective homes as they’d known they would have to and things started to fall apart.

They’d Skyped as much as they were able, stayed up all night just to catch each other for an hour at a time. It’d gotten harder and harder to make that time, it’d seemed.

Porter blames himself for the way it ended.

He’d gone a little crazy, towards the end. It was easy to assume that Anton was avoiding him on purpose, that Anton was _cheating_ on him with any one of his collaborators. Something, anything to avoid thinking that they were drifting apart.

He’d cried a lot, in the end. Called Anton sobbing in the middle of the night, shouted into his phone that if he was tired of him why didn’t he just _leave?_

They’d split up the day after with the promise that they’d still be friends.

There’s been festivals since, shows they’d both played and events they’d both attended and they both had tried so hard to keep things civil. To keep things friendly.

Except Porter can’t seem to help himself every time he sees Anton, and they’ve ended up running off to a bathroom together, locking themselves away until someone came banging on the door more times than Porter cares to admit.

Hiding like teenagers. The thought always makes Porter smile, the idea of how stupid they were. In any case it’s been at least a year since the last time they’d ditched some stuffy event to hook up in a closet or bathroom and it feels like it’s over this time, for real.

It’s easier when he isn’t seeing Anton, when he isn’t mentally and then literally removing all of Anton’s goddamn clothes.

He knew he’d be seeing Anton again, though. He’d always know that they’d keep seeing each other and he’s been desperately avoiding thinking about it for the duration of the Shelter tour.

Only now they’re in LA and Anton’s there too.

The tweets were nice and he’d responded sincerely - _miss you for real_ , because fuck, he does miss Anton, he misses him every day - but somehow he hadn’t expected Anton’s response, the invite to the studio, to make music together again.

The idea makes his heart pound and he’s not sure if it’s with how much he wants it or how terrified he is that he wants it so _badly_.

Hugo knows, of course. Hugo knows everything about him and especially everything about his relationship with Anton. He’s incredibly supportive, has been offering to run interference or make excuses for him or whatever he needs after they play the show.

It's fine, though, that's what he tells Hugo. He'll be fine.

He thinks it's kind of admirable how well he makes it through the show that night. It might be one of the best they've played the whole tour and Porter's not sure how much knowing Anton is there has to do with that.

They come off stage and Hugo slings an arm around his shoulders, hugs him like he always does and he’s smiling, they both are. For a moment everything is fine, with the high of the performance still coursing through him and Hugo next to him.

Hugo stops, arm going a little tighter around Porter and Porter blinks up at him.

“He’s here,” Hugo says, nodding down the hall. It’s a tiny movement but Porter understands and he turns his head to look.

He'd known Anton would be there but knowing doesn't stop the jolt in his chest when he sees him. He and Arkadi and Drew make their way down the hall and Hugo squeezes his shoulder, gentle and reassuring.

“Will you be alright?” he asks in an undertone and Porter glances up at him. He’s smiling but there’s an edge of concern in his eyes and Porter, not for the first time, is so immeasurably grateful for the presence of his best friend.

“Yeah,” he manages. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Hugo squeezes his shoulder once more before his arm drops back to his side and he’s turning to grin at the others.

“So good to see you,” he greets them warmly, waving them over and then wrapping all three of them in an octopus-like hug.

Porter's tempted to turn and run down the hall while they're distracted, hide in a bathroom until he knows Anton's left. He draws himself up instead, forces a smile on his face.

“Hi!” he gets out and it barely sounds strained at all.

Arkadi pats him on the back and he and Drew are complimenting the show and over their shoulders Hugo is talking to Anton and again, Porter's so thankful for him.

Anton looks good. He looks _so_ good and Porter's stomach is doing flips and he's barely paying attention to the conversation he's having until Drew slaps him on the shoulder.

“We should get a picture of you guys,” Drew says and for a moment Porter thinks he means just he and Hugo. But then abruptly he's right next to Anton and Anton's hand comes up to rest on his waist and Porter can smell him, so familiar and warm that he's dizzy with it.

He gets a smile on his face, gets his hand up into a half-hearted peace sign. The camera clicks once, twice.

Porter pulls away and Anton's fingers drag across his back, catch on his shirt like he's trying to hold on.

“I gotta pee,” Porter says.

He takes off down the hall and shoves his way into a bathroom. Splashes water on his face and knuckles at his eyes. Anton probably won't stick around, he thinks as he blinks blearily at himself in the mirror. It has to be just as awkward for him as it is for Porter.

Porter takes a couple of deep breaths and scrubs at his face with his sleeve for good measure before he pushes the door open and heads back out into the hall.

“Hey,” says Anton.

Of course he’s there, of course he’s standing _right there._

“Um,” says Porter. “Hey.”

The tension between them is palpable and Porter's hazily aware of the rigidity in his own shoulders. The churning in his stomach. Anton's just _looking_ at him.

“The show was wonderful,” Anton says softly. “You two have amazing chemistry.”

Porter bites his lip. “Thanks, it’s like… a dream come true.” He has to swallow down a laugh at the irony. “Or whatever.”

Anton quirks a little smile at him. “Eloquent,” he murmurs. “I can only imagine how it must feel to make music with someone you’re in love with.”

Porter blinks.

“What?”

Anton tilts his head and crosses his arms. Porter’s mouth goes a bit dry at the way his muscles flex under the fabric of his shirt but he shakes that away.

“You and Hugo, I mean,” Anton says, shrugging. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Porter’s so startled by the question that he laughs out loud. “Me and… me and _Hugo?_ Oh my god,” he snickers. “No, Hugo’s my best friend. It’s not… it’s not like that.”

Anton blinks at him and unfolds his arms. “Really?”

Porter shakes his head, shrugs. “It’s not like we haven’t considered it, I guess, just…” He shrugs again. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh,” says Anton.

Porter bites his lip. The tension is back and he curls one hand into a fist, uncurls it. Their eyes meet and Anton’s eyes are _so green_ -

He doesn't know who moves first but very suddenly he's up against the wall, caged in by Anton's arms and then they're kissing, a violent mash of lips and tongue and teeth that Porter moans into. It's so familiar, so good and so much and all Porter can do is wind his fingers into Anton's hair and cling to him.

He tastes exactly the same.

For a split second Anton breaks away and Porter's expecting him to stop completely, to pull away and straighten his clothes and walk away - _again,_ his mind screams - but it’s only for the span of a breath and then Anton's cupping his face and tilting his head, leaning back in and licking his way back into Porter's mouth.

Anton’s body is so warm, so solid against his own. Pushing him into the wall and Porter can’t help himself, hooks his leg around Anton’s and pulls him in closer, grinds against him.

The friction is delicious and Porter hums with it, groans against Anton’s teeth and tongue and holds on.

 

 

He’s the one to break away this time and Anton makes a protesting little sound and chases his mouth. “Let’s - Jesus-,” Porter pants. Anton dips his head to bite at Porter’s neck when he realizes he’s not getting back at his mouth any time soon and Porter interrupts himself with a moan. “Anton - shit, the green room, let’s-,”

Anton grunts an affirmative and catches his lips again but then they’re moving, Anton’s hands pressing into his waist and hips and ass and leading him down the hall. They’re bouncing off the wall but they just can’t seem to fucking _stop._

And then Anton’s shoving open a door and they almost fall into the room, barely manage to stay upright. Anton tips him back onto the couch a second later anyway, crawling up in between his legs and kissing him again.

“...too long,” Anton hisses, breaking away to lay hot, open mouthed kisses down Porter's neck. “It's been too fucking long, _fuck-,_ ”

“Anton,” Porter chokes, clutches at the back of Anton's shirt and tugs at it. Slips his hands up to press into warm skin, firm muscle. _Very_ firm muscle, he realizes, digging his fingers into Anton’s solid shoulders. “You're so - fuck, you're so _hard_ now?”

Anton snorts against his neck. “ _Porter_ ,” he breathes and there's a certain amount of scandalized delight in his voice that makes Porter realize what he's said.

“Fuck, I mean your body,” Porter groans, slapping weakly at Anton's back. “ _Christ_ , Anton!”

Anton retaliates with teeth, closing less than gently on Porter's collarbone and Porter whimpers, digs his fingers into Anton's back while Anton pushes his shirt up, palms running hot over Porter’s stomach and hips and -

“Yes, I'm _quite_ sure they're around here somewhere…”

Porter jolts at the sound of Hugo's voice, exaggeratedly loud outside the green room door, and gets his hands up to shove at Anton's chest.

“Get up, get off, _get_ -,”

“I don't wanna,” Anton mutters stubbornly, catching Porter's earlobe between his teeth, and Porter bites back a moan.

“Do you really want your brother and Drew to see this?” he snaps, too breathless to really be threatening at all but Anton's sitting up a second later. His hair has gone from artfully disheveled to a complete mess and Porter can't help the little snicker that escapes him.

Anton shoots him a look, so serious, and then they both start laughing. Even though Anton's still between his legs, even though Porter is sprawled on his back and his shirt is hiked up under his ribs, the laughter comes easy and _god_ he'd missed this.

“Yes, you're right!” It’s Hugo’s voice again, closer now and still so obviously loud. “They could be in the green room, of course! Let me just _try the door_ -,”

“Get _off_ ,” Porter hisses, still laughing, knees at Anton until he stands up and yanks his own shirt down.

“I was _trying_ to,” Anton grumbles and Porter dissolves into giggles.

The doorknob turns and Porter straightens jerkily, tugs his beanie down around his ears and he _prays_.

“Oh, hello!” says Hugo. He’s standing in the doorway, flanked by Arkadi and Drew and he’s positively _beaming_ , eyes sparkling and flicking between them. “We were just wondering where you’d gone!”

“We were just-,” Anton starts talking at the same time as Porter, the same words and they both jump and look at each other.

Porter bites the inside of his cheek. Anton’s jaw goes tense and Porter knows he’s doing the same thing.

“We were talking about the show,” Porter says slowly when he’s sure Anton isn’t going to say anything else. “You know, the, uh.”

“The lighting,” Anton provides. “I was saying how spectacular the lighting was.”

Hugo is smiling so knowingly and Porter wants to pull his beanie down over his face and never look at anyone ever again.

“Yes, we worked very hard on the… lighting,” Hugo says, voice hoarse like he’s trying his best not to laugh. “I was just going to take these two to find some beer, shall we meet you there?”

Porter stares. Hugo smiles.

“You could talk more about… lighting,” he says.

Anton’s across the room in a second, patting at Hugo’s shoulder busily. “Yes, yes, we’ll meet you in a bit,” he says in a rush. “See you there!”

He practically shoves Hugo out into the hall and slams the door behind him, turns to look at Porter. For a second Porter thinks Anton’s going to literally pounce on him and he really doesn’t think he’d mind it that much.

Then Anton sighs, drops his shoulders.

“I meant what I said,” Anton murmurs abruptly.

Porter tilts his head, keeps right on staring. “About-,”

“About the studio,” Anton interrupts. “I would… it’d be cool, you know, to make music again. Together.”

Heat rushes into Porter’s cheeks, spreads to the tips of his ears and he doesn’t know what to say but he’s dimly aware that his mouth is hanging open.

Anton shoots him a look. “Close your mouth before I start kissing you again.”

Porter snaps his mouth shut, purses his lips and Anton rolls his eyes and groans.

“That’s even worse,” he says, coming back to sit next to Porter and propping his chin up sulkily in one hand.

They just look at each other for a moment before Anton sighs.

“I really missed you,” he says quietly. Porter swallows and reaches out, catches Anton’s free hand in his. It’s reflexive, still instinctive to hold his hand after all this time.

Porter’s stomach is doing something strange. He ignores it.

“I missed you too,” he responds, a little late but Anton squeezes his hand anyway and he thinks Anton understands how much he means it.


End file.
